The Suit
by it's time to ramble on
Summary: The Daily Planet is having its 150th Anniversary Ball, and, amongst other things, Perry has threatened to fire Clark unless he gets a decent, well-fitted suit. Lois is recruited to make sure this happens. Anyone know which floor Menswear is on? :P
1. Salvation Army Reject

'Everyone in the boardroom, pronto!' Perry's impossibly loud voice boomed over the bullpen, causing a sudden wave of movement as everyone scrambled to do his bidding. It had often amused Clark in times past to think that this man, short and graying, could command the attention and obedience of everyone bar Lois Lane.

But today he noticed Lois filed in with everyone else, not even complaining that she had been halfway through a sentence, not arguing. Five years ago, this would never have happened.

With a sigh, Clark joined the others in the crowded boardroom.

'Kent! Shut the damn door!'

'Y-yes, Chief!'

'Don't call me Chief!'

Clark hurriedly shut the door then resumed his place beside a disgruntled Lois.

'Now,' Perry began, leaning forward and placing both his hands on the long table 'as you all know, the Daily Planet is holding our one-hundred-and-fiftieth-anniversary ball in two weeks time-'

'I didn't know that-'

'Quiet, Olsen! You know it now. Anyway, we need ideas. We need activities to keep people entertained. This shenanigan is gonna be held in the bullpen out there, so nothing too big, got it? Little things. ' he paused and looked around the room.  
'Oh, and try and make it something to do with the Planet. We don't want _Batman_ piñatas hanging everywhere.'

Jimmy timidly raised his hand.

'Olsen, this isn't elementary school! Just say it!'

'Uh… w-well…I was thinking, seeing as how this is about the Planet-' Jimmy stopped when he noticed everyone watching him.

'Yeah, Jimmy?' Clark encouraged, and Jimmy gave him a thankful smile, before continuing.

'Well, I was thinking, people are paying to come and celebrate the Daily Planet, and hey, they might just wanna learn a little bit more about the people who run it.'

'What do you mean, Jimmy?' asked Perry, slightly interested now.

'Well, it's like what they did at my sister's baby shower-'

'Olsen, is this going anywhere?'

'Yes, Chief. Anyways, they had this wall, where everyone posted a picture of themselves as babies, children, teenagers and adults, along with a clue. But the thing is, everyone's pictures were all mixed in together, and everyone got assigned a clue at the door, kinda like Kris Kringle. Then you had to use the clue to figure out whose pictures to find, and then actually find the pictures, and then say who they think it is. If they're right they get some sorta prize, if not, keep guessing. It's a good way to break the ice, I guess.'

'Well, I'll be, Jimmy. That's actually a good idea, even if it is a mouthful. Everyone loves seeing embarrassing childhood pictures of their colleagues, after all.' Perry said with a raised eyebrow, soliciting a small chuckle of agreement from some of the employees.

'Mr. white, shall I make a note of that?' asked Perry's assistant (Rosie), her pen poised over her notepad.

'Hell, why not! Everyone: by Friday bring in four embarrassing photos of yourself, and write a clue to help identify the photos. But KEEP IT ANONYMOUS! Don't show anyone else!'

Clark noticed that Rosie had simply written, _"What Jimmy said" _on her notepad.

'Anyone else got anything?'

Silence ensued.

'Agh, what the hell am I paying you for? Get back to work!'

Everyone shuffled back to their desks, laughing and chattering about the upcoming ball.

Clark was just trailing out of the room…

'KENT!'

With a sigh, he traipsed back into the boardroom.

'Yes, Chief?' he asked cheerfully.

'Three things. A: Have you finished that story on the Pompeii exhibition?'

'Just writing it up now, Chief.'

'Good, I want it on my desk in fifteen minutes. B: get a new suit. You look like you're wearing Salvation Army rejects.'

'Uh, okay…but…I don't really see what's wrong with-'

'Don't argue, just get a new suit! And a tuxedo for the ball, one that fits. If you don't, I'm firing you.'

'Uhh…sure, Chief.'

'C! Don't call me chief!'

A/N: Reviews, please 


	2. I See What You Mean

A/N: Thanks for the reviews/favourite story/favourite author adds! It makes my day! :D

'Lois!' Perry shouted above the quiet rumble of the _Daily Planet_ bullpen.

'Ugh.' Lois sighed, running her hand through her tangled hair. She needed an espresso. Pronto. Sluggishly, she pushed her chair away from her coffee-mug-stained desk and wove her way between filing cabinets and piles of useless crap to Perry's office.

'What, Chief?' she asked, annoyed, as she burst through the door. She very deliberately placed her hands on her hips, letting him know she was not at all happy.

'Well, it's nice to see you too, Lois.' He smirked. 'How long has it been since your last fuel injection? You need to get yourself a coffee.'

'Ha.' She laughed sarcastically. 'What do you want, Perry?' she shot him her most exasperated look.

Perry cleared his throat.

'Now: to the point. The Ball. It's in two days, correct?'

'Yes. Your point?'

'Kent. I've told him it's either a new suit or a new job, but I don't think he's following through. I need you to take him suit shopping. Today. Poor kid looks like he's wearing my great-uncle Herbert's funeral attire. It won't do for Mr. Stern to see one of his best reporters dressed like that. Capisce?'

Lois' jaw dropped.

'Perry, you and I both know the only way to get him out of that suit would be with a pair of scissors.'

'Do whatever is necessary. Take the _Planet_ credit card, if need be. Just get him a new suit! A damn fine suit!'

'Fine…' she huffed. 'But why me?' she raised her shoulders in a shrug. 'Wouldn't it be better if he went with, I don't know…Jimmy? Richard?' I don't know anything about men's suits!'

'Lois, you know you're the only one who could actually convince him to buy one. For someone who's such a pushover, he's sure got a will of iron.' Perry shook his head slightly in disbelief.

Lois seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she smiled.

'Sure, Perry. I'll take him shopping. But-' she pointed a finger accusingly at him '- you have to watch Jason any time I need.' She clapped her hands together in triumph.

'Lois-'

'No arguments, Perry.' She grinned.

'Fine.' He glared at her, wondering how this small woman could've thoroughly twisted this to her advantage so easily.

Perry sighed in defeat.

'Go. Now. Don't tell him where, just tell him he has to come.'

'Gotcha. Operation Kent, in motion.' Lois flashed him a smile, and turned back into the bullpen.

~.*.~

Clark tried his very hardest not to listen to Lois' conversation, but this time, he really couldn't help it. He had heard his name, and he now listened with rapt attention. _After all_, he thought, _if it's about me…_he stopped when he heard Perry's request. With a chuckle, he returned to his work.

He was sitting at his desk, typing away innocently at some fluff piece, when he felt Lois standing behind him.

'Hello, Lois.' He smiled, pushing his glasses up absent-mindedly.

'How did you know it was me, Smallville?' he could hear her smile.

'Well,' he cleared his throat unnecessarily 'I figured if it was Jimmy, he would have made himself known, and if it was Perry- well, I'd be going to him, not the other way around. In fact, I don't think I've seen him out of his office in at least a year…' he smirked.

'Very funny, and very sadly true. Come on.' Said Lois, shutting his laptop forcefully.

'Uh…where are we going, Lois?' he tried to sound confused, keeping his rear end firmly upon his chair.

'Out. Perry gave me an assignment, and I need your help. Come on!' She said impatiently, playfully throwing his coat at his head.

Sigh. 'Alright, Lois…' he looked her in the eyes as he shrugged on his coat, taking his time…very deliberately pissing her off.

She tapped her foot impatiently.

'Don't push me, Smallville.'

Another half-hearted sigh was issued from Clark. 'Coming, Lois. Coming.'

Together, they made their way to the elevator, and Clark didn't trip on a thing.

~.*.~

'$3.60, all up.' The cab driver's nicotine-stained lips flashed Lois a greasy smile.

'Keep the change.' She smiled sweetly as she handed him a $5 note.

Clark, always the gentleman, hopped out first, walked around the left of the cab, and opened Lois' door.

The cab pulled away from the curb, and Clark looked around.

'Uh…Lois, what exactly are we doing here?' Clark gave her his best quizzical eyebrow; as if he had absolutely no idea what they were doing outside Metropolis' biggest department store.

'Perry wants me to interview the guys who operate the menswear department. He thinks they might be involved in secret Intergang operations.' Lois turned to Clark, and was satisfied that he seemed to buy her story (that she had made up on the spot).

'Wow, who'd have guessed?' said Clark, biting his lip to prevent a huge smile from encompassing his face.

'I would've. Now let's go, you know how Perry hates dawdlers.' Lois grabbed him forcefully by the hand, and led him through the revolving doors to the elevators.

Up, up, and away…to the fifth floor.

'Ding.' Said the elevator-operator sarcastically, pressing a button to open the doors (which happened to be both old and extremely creaky), revealing a jungle of penguin suits on racks, socks, ties, cufflinks and smart shoes. It was huge!

'Wow.' Said Clark, in awe of the maze set before him.

'That's right.' Said Lois. 'This way.' She beckoned, and he followed her over to the counter, which had to be at least three hundred feet from the elevator.

'How can I help you today, ma'am?' asked the man behind the counter, his voice like over- sweet honey. _With that voice_, thought Lois, _he could stick the suits to your body so thoroughly, you'd have to buy them_.

Clark cleared his throat, going along with Lois cover story.

'Sir, we'd like to interview the manager of this floor, about possible Intergang-'

Lois laughed lightly, punching him in the chest. She noticed the server's confused expression.

'He's joking, of course. He-' she pointed at Clark 'needs a new suit.'

'Lois!' he exclaimed in mock horror, smiling.

The server looked him up and down, a disgusted look on his face.

'I see what you mean.'


	3. The Wonders of Instant Messaging

"For Pete's sake, Clark! You've been in there for nearly _fifteen minutes_!" cried Lois, tapping her foot loudly. The server gave her a tired look, rolling his eyes as he indicated Clark's change room.

"Are you _done_ yet?"

The sound of shuffling feet reached her ears. "Uh…yeah, I think…I'll just get changed back and then go buy it." Lois could practically hear Clark pushing up his glasses. She did a double take. All this time _waiting_, and she didn't get to see the_ suit_? Hell. No.

"Hey, back up there, Mister. You're not buying _anything_ until I've seen it! Now open this paisley-print curtain." Lois reached forward to rip the garishly patterned curtain open, but Clark quickly pulled it back shut. He then stuck his head out to look at her, horrified.

"Lois! What were you thinking?" He gasped, shocked. "I don't even have shoes on!"

The server looked from Clark to Lois, and started laughing hysterically, before he saw that Clark was totally serious. He stopped laughing, and tried to disguise his cough: "Cough, cough, * fail *, cough. Excuse me…" before walking off in the direction of the counter.

"Err…Clark… are you seriously…serious? You're worried about not having shoes on?" she raised an eyebrow.

He half-nodded. "Well, Lois, I wouldn't say worried." He pushed his glasses up his nose, flashing her a dorky smile. "It's just not polite to show others your bare feet." He pulled his head back behind the gaudy sea-life-themed curtain.

Lois had one thought going through her mind.

"Clark."

"Yes?"

"Were your parents Amish?" she deadpanned. He poked his head back outside.

The look of stunned confusion on his face was priceless.

"Err…" he blinked.

"That's what I thought. Your bunions can't be that offensive. Now, open!" she ripped the curtain open with such vigor that it tore in half, revealing him half-undressed.

"Ahh!" he screamed, pulling the torn curtain in front of his naked torso before she could get a good look. "What the h-hell, Lois!" he stuttered, eyes wide with fright.

"Clark! Why aren't you dressed?!" she shrieked, noting at the same time that his biceps were uncommonly well defined. "…Wait…did you just curse?!"

He watched her jaw drop, noting with amusement that she was ogling his exposed arms. He could only thank God that he had been cautious enough to remove the _other_ suit.

He pushed up his glasses again. "Well, gee, Lois! Yes, I think I did! I am not five years old, I –" he babbled.

"Whoa, easy there, cowboy. I've just never heard you swear before." Her surprise (and perhaps his previously-unnoticed arms) wiped away all her earlier anger. "You gonna show me the suit?"

"No. You'll just have to wait now."

She sighed in defeat. "Fine. Foot-Prude."

He smiled teasingly at her. It pissed her off, just like he knew it would.

"Then get changed, Miss Teen Modest USA. We don't have all day." She then quietly added: "Chicken."

He ignored the deliberate prodding. "Err…you kinda tore down the stall, Lois." He gestured with one hand to the ripped curtain enfolding his torso.

She rolled her eyes. "Just put your shirt on, already! It's not like you have breasts!"

She watched with satisfaction as a blush crept up his pale cheeks. He sighed resignedly.

"Fine, but no peeking." With that, he turned so his back faced Lois.

Of course, she had to look_,_ half expecting to see his silver-haired old mother tattooed on the small of his back.But what she saw surprised her. Clark's pale, well-defined muscles rippling as he pulled his shirt over his head.His broad shoulders and angular, tapered waist._ Me likey_, said the little voice in her head. _Shuddup_, she rebutted. _Kansas corn grows 'em good! _She mentally slapped herself.

He finished buttoning his shirt, and turned, acting as if he didn't have a totally toned bod underneath that powder-blue dress shirt. "I'll just go get this." He gestured to the tuxedo hanging off of the chair.

She nodded, and watched him go, wondering what else he was hiding under that ugly three-piece.

* * *

Lois flopped tiredly into her chair, exhausted after fighting with Clark for half an hour about why he had to buy his own bow tie, not just borrow one from Jimmy's expansive (plaid patterned) range.

"_If I buy one, I don't think I'll ever wear it again!" he whined._

"_Fine then. You're fired."_

"_I can borrow one of Jimmy's!" he pleaded._

_He then tried the whole puppy-dog-eyes thing, (that reminded her weirdly of Jason), which didn't work._

"_No." _

"_Why?"_

"_You don't wear plaid to the Daily Planet birthday bash. Buy it."_

"_Lo-is…"_

And so it went for about half an hour. He still couldn't comprehend what was wrong with wearing a plaid bow tie with a tux. Smallville, indeed.

She despairingly logged onto her computer account, deciding she needed to get a head start on the UN story before the next few sure-to-be-hectic days. Her IM program icon immediately started bouncing up and down in the corner. She accepted Perry's chat invitation.

_**BigChief10:**__ Lane, I want that article on the Disney-overdose death in my inbox yesterday!_

_**MadDog:**__ Sure, chief, I'm a little busy being abducted by aliens right now, but I'll make sure to get it to you by then,_

_**BigChief10: **__Ha. I'm not laughing. Seriously. How'd operation Kent go?_

_**MadDog: **__Success._

_**BigChief10: **__Good. Has he got photos? Have you?_

_**MadDog: **__I have no idea. They're probably in his silver-haired old mother's attic in Smallville. I have mine._

_**BigChief10: **__Make sure he gets them._

_**BigChief10 **__has left the conversation._

Lois sighed. She could practically hear Perry's menacing tone of voice over the IM. She absently chewed on her fingernail as she opened up another conversation with **!CK**.

_**MadDog: **__Clark Joseph Kent. -.-_

_**!CK: **__Hey Lois! Why the frowny face? I bought the bowtie, didn't I? :o_

_**MadDog: **__Have you got pictures for the board?_

_**!CK: **__Uhh… I thought I'd just skip out on that this time. I don't really have many good ones. _

_**MadDog: **__Ugh. You just need four. Not that big of a deal, Smallville. Baby, Child, Teenager, and current._

_**!CK: **__That's not possible, I don't have photos of me as a baby. So there._

_**MadDog: **__Lame. Excuse. Smallville. I'm sure your mother took lots of photos of you when you were just born. Every mother does. God knows I did._

_**!CK: **__Err…Lois? I am serious. I don't have any baby photos. I have no photos before age three._

_**MadDog: **__Why the hell not? Didn't they have cameras in Smallville? ROFL_

_**!CK: **__Haha. No. If you must know…_

_**MadDog: **__Indeed I must, Clark. This had better be good, or, as Perry would say, "You're Fired!"_

_**!CK: **__* Sigh * Lois. I was adopted._

_**MadDog: **__…………_

_**MadDog: **__…Really? 0.o_

_**!CK: **__Yes. __ Does this mean I'm off the hook?_

_**MadDog: **__No._

_**!CK: **___

_**MadDog:**__ That would explain why you look nothing the hell like either of your parents in that pretty little picture you've got on your desk._

_**!CK: **__That would be why._

_**MadDog: **__Smallville?_

_**!CK: **__Yes?_

_**MadDog: **__Why haven't you told me this before? I mean, we're friends, right?_

_**!CK: **__Yeah, Lois, we're friends _

_**!CK**__ has left the conversation._

Lois sat back and examined the conversation before her. She let her eyes roam across the room until they found Clark. He was sitting at his desk, concentrating on his screen. His expression said "_What the hell have I just done_." He seemed… worried. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what his problem was. She realized then that her quiet partner was a whole lot deeper than she had ever given him credit for. Who knew Smallville had secrets?

Clark's long fingers hovered above the keyboard, hesitating. Should he, or shouldn't he? It was one, little detail. In a way, he wanted her to know. He wanted to tell her everything. But he was afraid that she would react like last time, that she would either hate him or have a breakdown.

…But…they had a child together now, whether she knew it or not. It was different. He would have to tell her eventually. This little detail couldn't hurt. Maybe it would set her on the path to discovery…

In a few swift strokes he told Lois Lane he was adopted


	4. Congratulations! You Got Laid!

Author's Note: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Sorry this chapter has taken so long! I had a bit of writer's block…that, and real life got in the way. Anyways, hope you enjoy my latest edition of "Cyberbarbies"! :P  
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_Ring, ring, - - - - Ring, ring, - - - - Ring, ring, - - - - Ri-_

Martha snatched up the phone from her bedside cabinet, not for a second wondering who on earth would be calling at 6.05am.

"Morning, Mom."

"Clark!" she intoned cheerfully. "What you doing calling so early? You planning to pop 'round for breakfast?" she enquired, fastening the last button on her cardigan. "I was planning on making waffles."

He hesitated.

"Come on, honey. I haven't seen you in at least a week. Goodness only knows what you've been feeding yourself in that time, if anything at all."

"… Fine. I'll be there in a few minutes. But as much as I adore your fluffy golden waffles smothered with buttered and drowned in farm-fresh honey, that's not why I called."

"Well, even so, I can tell they were on your mind. Your description has my mouth watering. So, what is it you were after, my dear?"

"Well, it's the_ Planet_'s birthday bash tomorrow and-"

"Let me guess, you need a tux altered by your brilliant mother?"

"Well no, actually. I bought a new one- one that fits. I actually need some photos of me as a kid."

"Oh- we've got heaps, they're all up in the attic. So, will I be seeing you soon?"

"Sooner than you know it."

"Bye, Honey." Martha smiled as she placed the still-warm receiver back in its cradle.

Almost immediately she heard the back door bang, and a voice called from the kitchen.

"Mom? It's me." Called Clark's voice.

Martha hurried from her bedroom out to the carpeted stairs, and began descending once she ascertained that it was in fact Clark. A silly habit, she knew, but one could never be too sure.

"Well, of course it's you, you silly thing. Who else can get here in ten seconds flat?" she laughed as she pulled her tall son into a warm hug.

"So, my boy; you ready for some waffles?"

"Mom, those were _so_ good!" Clark let out a long breath.

"What did you expect? I made them." Martha chuckled as she piled the dirty dishes into the sink. She wiped her hands on an old gingham tea towel as she turned to face her son.

"You ready to go find some photos?" Martha enquired, gesturing to the roof.

"Yeah, please. Where were they in the attic? I'll grab them and bring them down." Clark placed one foot on the thickly carpeted bottom stair, awaiting instructions from his mother.

"They're near the window, in a red box labeled '_Clark_'. Mind the old crockery in the box beside them…"

Clark rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Of course. I'll be right back…" Martha saw a blur of white and brown, and suddenly Clark was beside her again, clutching a sizeable red box in his strong arms. He blew on the top of the box, removing a layer of dust at least a quarter of an inch thick, and spreading it everywhere. Martha sneezed; "Gah-choo!"

"Bless you… I guess we should get started." Clark cautiously placed the large box on the worn mahogany coffee table, sat down on the well-loved old sofa and carefully took off the fragile lid.

"Whoa, I'd forgotten about that!" he laughed, removing a picture from the box. Martha sat down beside her son, and moved to see the picture in held in his left hand. Martha could not help but giggle when she saw the photo: _Clark was about five years old, dressed in nothing but a pillowcase and a pirate's hat made of newspaper, perched atop the old tractor, his cheeky grin making prominent his missing front teeth._

"That's definitely going in, no arguments." Martha grabbed the photo from Clark and placed it to her right, just out of his reach.

"Fine. I still need ones of me as a teenager, adult and maybe one from when I was ten or so…"

Martha sighed, scared by the huge amount of photographs residing in the box before her. "Ugh. I'm tired already/"

"Mom, don't complain! It's your own fault. You took most of these photos." He motioned the box.

"Clark! You cheeky thing. It's a mother's prerogative to photograph her child at every available opportunity."

Clark's face suddenly fell, thinking of Jason. How many photos were there that he had never seen…would never see? How many precious moments had he missed? He sighed dejectedly.

Martha could tell that for some reason or another, she had hit a nerve.

"Clark? What is it? The photo's not that bad is it? Is it because we don't have any of you as a baby?" she placed a hopeful hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, you can tell me."

"Nothing, really. It's just…"

"Spit it out, kiddo."

Clark knew he had to tell his mother about Jason: it was now or never. She was like Lois in that she would never give up until she had the whole story.

Clark turned to face his petite mother, and looked her straight in the eye.

"I have a son, and he's the same age as I was in that photograph."

Martha simply smiled.

"I knew it!"

Clark's eyes bugged.

"You _knew_?! How long?!" he cried, horror crossing his face.

"Well, I suspected ever since I saw your Lois leaving Met. General with her son. That little boy looked straight at me, and I just…knew. I almost did a double take, thinking it was you for a moment. Then I figured…he'd be about the right age…"

Clark looked at her suspiciously.

"The right age…for what?"

"Well, since you and Lois were last together five years ago-"

Clark clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Mother! How do you know we were together?!" he cried.

"Clark," she said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "I'm old, not stupid. When you walked in here with that huge stupid grin on your face… the only reason someone looks like that… Well, it was obviously you'd just gotten laid, let's put it that way."

At the look on Clark's face, Martha added:  
"What? You think I didn't know what 'laid' means?"

Clark shook his head in disbelief.

"Well geez, I was only married for forty years." With that, she turned back to the box, and began sifting through more photos.


	5. Shame Factor: 10

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Thanks also to ShadoLibrarian for beta-ing this chapter, and sorry it was so long between updates!

* * *

The small assortment of photographs sat in mild disarray atop Clark's kitchen counter. They lay there rather innocently; as if unaware of the magnitude of embarrassment they were soon to cause him. In truth, he supposed it was unavoidable. _All_ the photos he and his mother had considered were either very embarrassing, very revealing, or both.

Clark's long fair fingers deftly spread the assortment of photos into a rough fan shape, so as he may once again assess their Shame Factor.

The photos of him on the tractor automatically got full marks. It was, without question, the weirdest photo he had _ever_ seen of himself. Seriously, …why had he been wearing a skimpy green pillowcase, and why had his mother found it necessary to capture it on film? _I look like a five-year-old bikini model…_ he promptly decided, moving it off to the side. He moved on to the next photo.

Clark and his friend Pete Ross were posing with their arms around each other's shoulders, and wearing the celebrated red-and-yellow jerseys belonging to the Smallville High football team. _Good times…_ Clark wondered if it was at all appropriate to show this photo, seeing as how the _Daily Planet _staff all knew Clark as an unrelenting klutz. Clark definitely had his doubts about this picture, even after his mother's assurances. _I'm not even wearing glasses! h_He fretted. Hopefully, no one would notice the truly remarkable resemblance between himself and the Man of Steel. After all, it had been practically fifteen years since the photo under inspection was taken, and, if in fact someone did think he looked familiar, Superman's youthful face was so out-of-context as to make it nearly implausible. At least, that's what he hoped.

The next photo was Clark as a toddler. He could not help but smile fondly at the recollection. Clark Kent was seated beside a small redheaded girl, holding her hands. Their heads were bent close together, their lips touching in a saccharinely sweet infantile kiss. He supposed it could be called endearing, adorable, cute, or any other number of adjectives. Lana Lang had, of course, been the "love of his life" from kindergarten through senior year… until he realized she was a total cad, of course. Geez. When he quit the football team, she suddenly decided that their "relationship" (to call it that would be an overstatement, in hindsight) was going nowhere.

Lastly, there was Clark in his mid-twenties, just a few months before his infamous "trip". He was leaning carelessly against the fencepost, smiling cheekily at the camera. The casual red t-shirt and jeans he was wearing seemed to portray a Clark Kent altogether different to the ace reporter. Here, with the farm in the background, Clark was "in his element", so to speak. Here, he was who he was. His hair was messy and unbrushed, his hands were stuffed into his pockets. A shaggy yellow dog was visible in the background, and a beautiful cerulean blue sky rendered this particular photo Clark's favourite.

The four representations of Clark Kent found their way into an envelope, which was promptly sealed and placed inside a jacket pocket.

With a sigh, Clark headed to the bedroom to get dressed.

Now, if only he could remember how to do bow-ties…

Lois nearly screamed with frustration. She _had _to get Jason to Richard's mother's apartment by 6pm sharp, or else, God forbid, she would be late getting dressed. And now, at 5.45pm, as dictated by Murphy's Law, she was stuck in unbelievably heavy, ridiculously congested traffic.

"Mo-om!" Jason's small whine beat against her eardrums.

She inwardly groaned. "What is it, Sweetie?"

Jason's voice was pained, and his expression fraught with boredom "When are we go-ing to beeee there?"

"Beeeeeeeeeeep!" Lois slapped her forehead against the steering wheel when the changing of the lights failed to result in vehicular movement of any sort.

"Gah!" she flapped her hands in frustration, then stopped, remembering the delicately assembled pile or hair perched precariously atop her skull. Lois caught a glance of her reflection in the rear-view mirror and promptly smoothed back a stray curl.

"Mom?" Jason asked, puzzled by her antics.

"We'll be there soon, buddy. So stop talking."

Jason fixed an irate stare at the back of her head.

"Hey, take it easy, there. Don't wanna burst a capillary…" she smirked, noticing her son's expression.

"Huh?"

Lois was preparing to explain the novel concept of blood vessels to her little boy, when flashing lights up ahead caught her attention. She peered intently towards the front of the half-mile logng jam. Suddenly, there was-

"Movement!" At last!


	6. But That's Much Too Simple!

**A/N: Thanks a heap to ****Shado Librarian**** for Beta-Reading this chapter! Your suggestion really helped :D Also, thanks to all you readers for reviewing, favouriting, etc.! And sorry this chapter took so long to get up!**

"Okay. It's all good." She assured herself.

Lois puckered her lips delicately in front of the gold-edged bathroom mirror, checking for any stray make-up.

"Lipstick, all good."

She slowly turned, examining her hard-earned coif from every possible angle.

"Hair…yes."

A loud beep startled her from her impatient inspection.

She self-consciously smoothed the front of her flowing, midnight blue empire-waist, floor-length silk dress.

The phone beeped again as she hurried, hopping on one leg to her dresser, trying to at once rightly place her sequined silver shoe onto her foot, and open her new text message.

Lois leaned heavily on the dark cedar-wood piece, and dropped her designer pumps in defeat after stabbing herself with an extremely pointy heel.

She grabbed her cell phone, and pressed a random button to brighten the screen. With a few smooth moves, Lois opened her message inbox and found her most recent text. Sigh. It was from Clark.

_From: Clark Kent_

 _Message Received: 12/20, 6:45pm_

_Hey, Lois_

_Just letting you know Jimmy and Perry are already there, I will be soon. See you!_

_PS. Stop worrying, you look great!_

The last line brought a genuine smile to her tastefully decorated face. _He's right_, she mused.

"I _do _look great." She said aloud.

Upon re-reading the message, she saw the time: 6:45. She had only fifteen minutes to get to the _Daily Planet_ from the suburbs on the other side of the river.

Then it hit her. "_Crap_!"

Lois hastily shoved her shoes onto her feet, snatched her purse from atop the large bed and quite literally sprinted down the stairs, heels narrowly avoiding the small train of her dress.

In less than thirty seconds, Lois Lane was driving her small silver Audi ten miles above the speed limit, in her own personal style, down Riverside Drive and towards the heart of the city.

Clark took one last turn in front of the full-length mirror that adorned his closet door, checking once more for any dust or fluff that may have appeared on his tailored tux.

Unfortunately, he didn't find any, and therefore had no reason to still be at home. He didn't rightly know why he was so nervous, but supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had never let this much of himself shine through to the office Clark Kent. Physically _or _mentally. He didn't look right.

Then he realized: he didn't really know whom he was going as. Of course, he wasn't going as Superman, but in this outfit he didn't look like any version of himself. The 'Metropolis Clark', as he referred to himself sometimes, would never wear anything this…well… _nice_, and yet _Superman_ would _never_ wear glasses _or _a tux.

He briefly wondered if perhaps referring to himself in third-person all the time was a little unhealthy, and then mentally shook it off.

"It's the only way to keep track of who I'm meant to be at any one moment." Clark stated matter-of-factly, rubbing his glasses against the lapel of his jacket. He then realized he was talking to his reflection.

Clark mentally slapped himself.

Looking at the clock, he realized it was _really _time to go - 6:55pm.

"Gah!"

He did a quick once-over smoothing of his hair.

A smile flitted across his face. He was pleased with himself, after all, despite his mild identity crisis.

"I'm just going as _me_. No pretension." He thought aloud.

All in all, Clark thought, he cleaned up pretty nice.

The _Daily Planet_ bullpen was almost unrecognizable: Tastefully chosen purple, red and gold festive decorations swathed nearly every unmoving surface, including potted plants. Every desk had been cleared into a hidden, temporary antechamber, and the enormous cavity left by the lack of furniture had been turned into a stylish dance floor. The abundance of alcohol present in most every drink had created an unusually cheery atmosphere, complimented by the warm, twinkling lights adorning the twelve-foot Christmas tree in the centre of the room. All in all, that unique, unnamable, exciting feeling that completes every great party was heavy in the air. Lois could already tell this was going to be a night to remember.

Her observational reverie came crashing down around her ankles as a random clumsy idiot stood on her dress.

'Hey, watch it, Buster! Do you know how much this dress is worth?!" she cried, poking him angrily in the chest. The man shrugged apologetically and moved on, leaving Lois feeling irritated. She made a small angry sound, and compulsively smoothed down her hair. Perfect.

Deciding it was best not to stand by the door too much longer, she looked around, trying to spot a familiar face.

"Aha!" she blurted triumphantly, nodding in reply to Jimmy's enthusiastic waving.

With a smile, she shouted over the roar of the crowd, "Coming!"

Trying to keep her eyes fixed on Jimmy's location, she swerved and swiveled her way over. He was no more than thirty feet away as the crow flies, but in reality, he was closer to fifty. Lois glanced anxiously at her feet, making sure no one was about to step on her expensive dress. Satisfied that her hemline was safe, she turned her gaze back to the back of Jimmy's head. She looked around, and noticed a tall, dark-haired man standing regally beside him.

_Ooh. Who is _this_? Even the back of his head is attractive…_

Saying the man was _extremely _well built would have been an understatement. His slick black hair was perfect. His broad shoulders tapered into a _very _narrow waist, and his elegant, slim hips replicated almost exactly a statue of _Achilles _Lois had seen once in Hyde Park, London. _Wow_.

Who knew that was even humanly possible?

_Gah, but he's probably taken- all the good ones are married._

As this disastrously discouraging thought occurred to her, she couldn't help but stare at the man's left hand, trying to discern a glint of gold, despite the fact she was at least ten metres away.

Lois surreptitiously moved a few feet closer, straining to get a glimpse of his beautiful long fingers.

_Aha! No ring! He's mine!_

When a neighbouring colleague gave her a slightly puzzled, "_What the Hell" _kind of look, Lois realized she had in fact spoken out loud. Oops.

_So… for once, it's my lucky day_…

The mere thought of becoming acquainted with this man make her want grin, but she was very careful to keep calm.

_Cool your jets, Lois. Remember last time you did something like this? Yeah, that's right. You ended up engaged and pregnant… not that the kid was even his, but anyway…_

As a scrupulously dressed waiter waltzed by, Lois swiped a flute of bubbly from his tray, all the while telling herself it would help calm her nerves as she contemplated the identity of the man. Not once did it occur to her to simply speak to him…

No, that would be far too easy. She would have to examine him, assess him from afar before she took so drastic a step as actually approaching him.

_Knowing my luck, he's probably a transvestite, or maybe even an accountant, but let's hope for the best… Perhaps he's a swimmer?_ Lois realized then she was still ogling this beautiful stranger's backside unashamedly. It was really very nearly indecent, but Lois found she honestly didn't care. It was conceivable that this feeling of "reckless abandon" (at least in her mind) that had suddenly overcome her had something to do with the cool, fuzzy liquid fast disappearing from her glass, but what the hell.

_It's a party, after all!_

_What… a swimmer at the _Daily Planet _party? Stupid, Lane. Stupid._

Shaking herself, she turned slightly, and nabbed the arm of Jennifer, an advice columnist, as she passed.

Jenny half-turned, still holding the hand of her accompanying male friend. "Oh… hi, Lois." She smiled.

"Look, Jenny, sorry to interrupt, but, who is that? I don't recognize him." Lois gestured discreetly towards Jimmy's friend.

Jenny glanced quickly as the dark-haired man, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise. She faced Lois again, and her expression was one of amazed puzzlement.

"I have no idea, but he's _hot_!" she mouthed the last word, so as to avoid upsetting her male friend, and mimed fanning herself.

"He's so _tall!_" giggled Loueen, who had been listening in on their conversation.

Jenny nodded in agreement, before adding: "And his hands! They're sooo big! Just imagine the fun you could have…" A saucy smile crossed her face as she licked her lips, soliciting a grunt of annoyance from her male companion.

"…And I don't think I've seen legs that long on _anyone_!" Loueen whispered in awe.

Lois interrupted. "Okay, enough of this. I saw him first, and now I'm going to go see who this mysterious stranger is." She smiled wickedly at the two women, and twisted in Jimmy's direction.

"Jimmy!" she called, placing her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.

At the sound of her voice, Jimmy turned to wave her over, and tapped his friends on the shoulder, pointing in Lois' direction.

Lois waited in anticipation to see his face; certain he was going to be a dreamy and delicious vision, a handsome hunk of a man... after all, with a body like that, how could he _not _be?

The man turned…

Gulp. It was…

James bond?

Tom Cruise?

Batman?

…_Clark?!_


	7. The Ginga Ninja

**Hope you guys are all thoroughly enjoying 2010 (I am!), and sorry it's taken so long between chapters! Many thanks to **_**Shado Librarian**_** for beta-ing! :D**

___ __ ___

_Dayum._ **Clark Kent= American Achilles.**

Who woulda thunk it?

Seriously.

I mean, it's _Clark. _He's not _supposed _to be _hot. _At _all. _He's just Smallville; the farm kid.

…_The incredibly hunky farm kid… with a _great _butt._

_Gah! _Lois mentally slapped herself. _Keep it together! He's still just Clark. He's still a klutz. He's still Clark. He's still a hack._

_Nothing's changed, bar me knowing all about his rock-hard buns._

_OMG._

Lois internal dialogue seemed to run on repeat for a few seconds as she processed the puzzle of the gorgeous Mr. Kent.

Seriously, why was she only finding out about this now? They'd worked together for _years, _and she'd never seen him out of work clothes. How sad was that?

Pulling herself together, she squeezed in next to Jimmy.

"Hey," she said breathily, rather puffed from the effort of circumnavigating the crowded bullpen.

"Hey, Lois." Clark replied, plastering a genuine smile on his face. "You look nice."

Lois gave him an odd look. "Thanks, Smallville. What's got you so happy?"

"Uh, I'm just happy. Why?"

"Your smile looked different."

"Um, I don't think so…" Clark shrugged, still smiling.

"Oh well."

A beat passed.

"You clean up pretty well too, by the way. Who'd have known you were so tall, eh?"

Clark shifted uncomfortably, and Jimmy seemed to appreciate the fact that both Clark and Lois were feelingly unreasonably awkward.

"Hey, have you guys seen all the embarrassing childhood photos of your workmates yet?" he asked, smiling mischievously.

Lois and Clark answered in unison,"Nope."

__ __ __

"LOL, I wonder who _that _is. _Love _the ginger 'fro. Not." Jimmy chuckled.

Silence.

"Jimmy, did you just say 'LOL'?" Clark asked, disgusted.

"…Yes."

"And, by the way, that's your boss." Lois gestured at the curly-headed young man smiling out of the photograph."

Jimmy was momentarily stunned into silence.

"… Perry?" he paused, "A _ginger_?"

"Sure as you are, Jimbo," Replied a gravelly voice, "Sure as you're about half an inch form getting you butt fired into last century, that is."

The young photographer turned, startled, to face a smirking Perry White.

"S-sorry, Ch-Chief." He stammered.

Perry glared at him good-naturedly, before patting him on the back, as if to say '_relax, kid,_' and walking away, chuckling lightly.

"What was _that_ all about?" Jimmy asked, bewildered.

Lois smiled wickedly. "I don't know, but you'd better watch your back tonight, Jim. He didn't even tell you off for calling him _Chief_. That means you're in **Big Trouble**."

"R-really?"

"No."

"Oh. Good- Hey, who's that?"

"That's Gil." Lois stated matter-of-factly.

"No, I know that one's Gil, I mean the photo to the left of it. The one with the pigtails."

"This one?" Clark touched a photo of Gil with a wig on.

"Huh? No. _This_ one." Jimmy emphasized his point by tapping a highly colored photograph of a young girl decked out in full cowboy regalia, spurs and all.

Lois blushed.

"OMG, Lois, is that _you_?" enquired Jimmy, incredulous.

"…Yes." She said through gritted teeth.

"What one earth were you-"

"Shuddup, Jimmy."

He ducked his head obediently. "Yes Ma'am."

"Where are some of you, Jim?" enquired Clark, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"But that would be cheating if I told you. You're supposed to guess."

Clark raised an eyebrow, and Jimmy sighed in defeat.

"Fine. That's me _there, there _and _there_."

Unfortunately, Lois could pick out nothing funny in any of the photos. They were all (regrettably) _really nice _shots of Jimmy at various stages: Baby, Toddler, first day of school, etc.

"How come you don't have any crappy photos, like the rest of us?" demanded Lois, annoyed.

"My Dad's a photographer. And hey, what can I say, I'm just a good-lookin' guy."

"Whatever. Party Pooper"

Jimmy shrugged, a smug smile playing upon his lips. _Lane-437; Olsen-1_. Score.

"So, Clark, where are you?"

"Right here beside you, Lois."

"Aha. Seriously. Show me."

"Nope. Where's the fun in that?"

"But I told you mine!" Jimmy whined.

"Yeah, but Jimmy, your photos were actually uncompromisingly decent, so it wasn't any fun anyway. Clark's are sure to be fabulous. And by that I mean hideously, cripplingly embarrassing."

Jimmy half-crossed his arms, using one hand to stroke his nonexistent beard as he considered the wall of photos set before him.

"This one?"

"No."

"This one?"

"Jimmy, that's _Richard."_

"Oh. _That _one?"

"Uh… No. As far as I know, I never wore a kilt as a child."

"Darn."

Suddenly, Lois' face lit up. _"This _one."

Clark grinned, recalling the moment captured in the photograph. "Yeah, that's me and my friend Pete Ross the day of the football Grand Final in Senior Year."

"Uhh… Smallville, since when have you ever played football?"

"I played all through High School."

"I was under the impression that one needs to have some small amount of hand-eye co-ordination to play football? …What position did you play, anyway?"

"Quarterback."

"Ah."

_What the hell? _thought Lois. _First he has a killer bod, now he's an ex-jock? What is up with that?!_

"So… why didn't you ever tell me you played?"

Clark shrugged. "I guess it never came up."

Lois face assumed a perplexed expression. _Clark Kent= Man of Mystery?_

"Hey, Lois, this is a _really _cute one of Jason. Where was it taken?" Jimmy's shrill voice interrupted her train of thought, sending it careening off the rails of rationality and down into the unorganized ravine that was the back of Lois' mind. She followed Jimmy's gaze, and scrutinized the unfamiliar image.

Clark glanced over at the photo in question.

And very nearly died.

The photo wasn't of Jason at all.

__ __ __


	8. Big Trouble

HEY everybody! Thanks so much for the reviews! There's been so many, I can't reply to them all like I normally would.

Thanks a million to Shado Librarian for beataing.

Enjoy!  
__ __ __

"_Hey, Lois, this is a __really __cute one of Jason. Where was it taken?" Jimmy's shrill voice interrupted her train of thought, sending it careening off the rails of rationality and down into the unorganized ravine that was the back of Lois' mind. She followed Jimmy's gaze, and scrutinized the unfamiliar image._

_Clark glanced over at the photo in question._

_And very nearly died._

_The photo wasn't of Jason at all._

__ _ __

"Who the hellis this?" Lois demanded, placing herself squarely in front of the picture.

"What do you mean, _who is this_?It's Jason!" Jimmy scoffed, before noting Lois' confused expression. "Right?"

"Uh… no, Jimmy. Unless you took it without my knowledge in an unknown location then sneakily submitted without telling me."

"Well, I didn't."

"Good." Lois crossed her arms over her chest, thinking.

"So... you really don't know who that is?" Jimmy queried, peering at Lois.

"No. But the resemblance is uncanny. It's freaking me out a little bit."

_Seriously._

Clark was also freaking out. If he told Lois the photo was of him, she would freak. If she figured it out on her own, she would freak. If he didn't tell her, well, she was already freaking out.

_So why even bother telling her? It would just add to her stress. She's probably already worried that some random stranger had either:_

_Spirited her child away to an undisclosed location to photograph him wearing just a pillow case (which was more than slightly weird)._

_One of her colleagues bore an uncanny resemblance to Jason (weirder)._

_Or_

_C) Superman was secretly one of her workmates. (Extraordinarily twisted)_

So. Should he risk letting the _Mad Dog Lane _off of its chain?

As Lois would probably say: Hell. No.

So, he remained steadfastly silent, discreetly backing away.

"Clark! Where're you going?" Lois asked suspiciously, grabbing his arm.

_Operation Diplomatically Exit Conversation: Failed._

Clark smiled serenely and pointed over his shoulder, "I was just going to get a drink, Lois. You want one?"

_Smooth._

"Yes. And send Perry over. Pronto."

"Yes'm."

Clark wandered off in search of Champagne, knowing exactly why Perry was wanted. Ms. Lane was planning a _Lois Inquisition_, and Perry was going to be the tortured witch. In short, she wouldn't stop until she found out who that kid in the pic was.

Going Against every screaming instinct of self-preservation, Clark tapped Perry on the shoulder.

_Lois, _he mouthed, pointing towards the photo board. Perry nodded, drained his glass, and patted Clark on the shoulder.

Oh, man.

He was in _Big Trouble_. As in, trouble bigger than he was tall.

And that's saying something.


	9. Wimp With A Cape

1. Thanks for the reviews! Can't believe how many this story has gotten :D

2. Sorry about the last chapter being so short, and sorry in advance for this one!

3. All mistakes are my own, this chapter goes up without having been betaed.

4. Enjoy!

Have you ever done that thing, where, I don't know, maybe you're in trouble, or you're heading for unavoidable strife or something, and then, suddenly, you find yourself chanting a little jingle, a little mantra, trying to convince yourself that it will be okay? That it will help you steer clear of all inconvenience and cause for concern?

You haven't?

Oh.

Well, I do it all the time.

Like, after I went and got Perry, for example. I knew that he would be able to identify me in the photograph, and so (because it's the obvious thing to do in times of crisis), I closed my eyes, and hummed to myself, trying to tune everything out.

_Crap. Damn. Hell. Crap. Damn. Hell. Crap. Damn. Hell._

Very Lois, I know.

So, anyways, back on track, I went and fetched Perry for Madame Lane, knowing full well my little speck of an existence was soon to be obliterated by an unrelenting hurricane.

If she happened to connect the dots, so to speak.

Is it at all possible that Lois could know it was I in the photograph, and not connect me to Superman? Or Jason?

Why did this seem an insurmountable hurdle on my path to happiness? Why was I so scared of telling her?

And, really, it's time I told her the truth anyway. About Superman. About everything.

So, you know, I suppose I'll just have to let her know he's me, and that I'm him.

Really. For real. Once and for all. Enfin.

Just go out and say it, get it all out in the open, disgorge my secrets, vocalize my fears, and all round ooze cowardice.

Then, sit back, and take the heat.

Sounds like a plan, no?

…_No._

__ __ __

Clark steadied himself, and took a loooooooong, deeeeeeeeep breath.

I_iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin_, and _ouuuuuuuuuuuuut._

_Relax,_

He ran his hands through his hair.

_Calm,_

He spared a glance in Lois' direction, and found her talking animatedly with Perry.

_Ready._

__ __ __

_Tap tap._

The small gesture reverberated across Lois' shoulderblade, catching her by surprise.

"_Wha-?" _she blurted, startled to find Clark standing less than two feet behind her.

"Clark!" she exclaimed, placing a hand just below her collarbone, "You scared me. Sheesh." Lois shook her head, a small _tssk _sound escaping her lips as she turned back to Perry.

He smiled tightly.

"Lois?"

"Yeah?" she half-turned.

"Uh." He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. "Well…" he stopped.

Lois smiled good-naturedly, chuckling. "So eloquent, Mr. Kent. Why on earth didn't you go into television?"

_Cool, calm and collected. You can handle this. Ready._

He coughed. "Lois, can we talk? Please?"

"Not now, Smallville, I'm _mingling._ Besides, I'm still trying to work out this whole Jason-from-the-past conundrum. It's freaking me out a little bit, y'know?"

"That's what it's about, Lois."

"Oh?" her face lit up, "did you find out who it is?"

Once more, he gave pause.

"I suppose that could be said."

Lois gazed at him expectantly.

"So." She tilted her head, "are you going to tell me who it is?"

__ __ __

"Lois?"

She glanced up, surprised to find an overwrought expression marring his face.

"Are you okay?"

She once more made the _tssk _sound between her teeth.

"Clark, I'm fine. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me it was your photo. What was I gonna do? Eat you for bearing a chance resemblance to Jason? Seriously, I don't know what we had to come up onto the roof for. Were you so embarrassed by your five-year-old self? I actually think it's a really cute picture." She smiled.

_Gulp. Here it comes._

_Is this it?_

"No. I was just scared."

Lois let out an errant chuckle.

"Scared of what, Clark? It's just a picture."

_I'm in the deep end, and there's no swimming out. Not anymore._

"…I was scared you might figure me out.."

__ __ __


	10. I See It At Last, So Show Me the Suit

**Hi everyone! After reading some reviews on the first incarnation of chapter 10 I have decided that I wasn't happy with it, and have consequently re-written it. Please disregard everything from the first attempt, 'cause this one is much better :) Also, I'm not sure whether or not this should be the last chapter. If any of you have any ideas about where the story might go from here, please let me know.**

**xAnnabel **

What the hell is that supposed to mean? _"I was afraid you might figure me out." _It's Clark. What's there to figure? Sure, he's been acting a little weird all night, but whatever it is, it can't be that bad. He probably thinks I don't know it was him who left me flowers this morning or something. Poor guy.

"Clark, if it's about the roses, I love them. There's no need to be embarrassed."

He looks momentarily puzzled.

"Uh… I'm glad, Lois, but that's really not what I'm trying to say…" he pauses, " Actually, I really don't know what I'm trying to say. I'm just kind of… improvising. I've never really done this before…"

"What, you've never given a girl flowers before? I'm glad I was your first time."

_Umm, whoa?! What was that look he just gave me?! _

He clears his throat, still looking at me strangely. "Lois, that's the thing. Uhh… you were my first time. But I don't mean flowers. I mean… everything. First… love."

_Uhh… Question Mark? He loves me?_

"Umm… okay. Clark, I love you too. Just… not in the way I think you love me. You're a really great friend, but-"

He sighs, and rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Lois, no. You've got completely the wrong idea. I'm not… I'm not being the co-worker who has a crush on you. I'm trying to make you understand. I love you, more than ever. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you in Perry's office. I think I may just love you forever. And I need you to know this, so you can understand why I did it."

His blue eyes meet mine through the magnifying effect of his coke-bottle glasses, and his gaze is so intense that it's a little unsettling.

"Did what, Clark?"

"Did everything. Why I ever did any and every awful thing I've ever done to you. Why I put you through so much."

"I take it you're talking about more than just spilling soup on my Gucci heels?"

He laughs. "Yes. I'm talking… hugely more than ruined shoes. Lois, I'm just going to say it."

"Please do. I'm intrigued- I honestly can't think of anything worse than the sight of those ruined satin pumps."

"I said I've loved you from the instant I saw you."

"Yes."

"I've also lied to you from the moment I met you. I've lied to you and almost everyone else on a daily basis, and I did it easily because I thought it was the right thing to do. And I always do the right thing."

"Clark…"

"Lois, just listen. There's a part of me that always just wants to protect you. To shield you from all the bad things in the world, and that's why I didn't tell you. Just because I thought it was right, doesn't mean it was. It was perverted. I acted like your friend, then the next moment there I was, taking advantage of it."

"Clark, for Pete's sake! Just _say _it!" I half-shriek. I swear he is the most talented procrastinator I have ever met.

"I'm not what who you think I am. It's that simple."

I pause.

"Well, then. Who are you?"

"I'm Superman."

I watch her expression darken, and move through stages of shock, anger and cynicism as the news sink in. I catch her eye as she assumes an air of indignation.

"Lois?" I ask, cautiously.

She lets out a deep breath. "I see."

I can see that she doesn't really see.

"Lois, I'm Superman. Have always been, will always be. And I have always lied to you about it."

She meets my eye. "I… I don't understand how you're him. I don't understand why you never thought I should know this. Even after… oh my go- Jason!" she claps a hand over her mouth.

"Jason." I repeat, savoring the sound of my son's name.

"Jason!" she shrieks, giving me a hard (barely perceptible) slap across the cheek. I turn my head so she doesn't hurt herself.

"How can you be Superman?! _How_ can you have not told me this before?"

_Uh oh. _"I have told you this before. But then I… _un_-told it to you."

"WHY?"

Lois always makes the best points. Why had I taken those memories from her? I could understand why, but she probably wouldn't. How could she possibly know how much she meant to me? After my mother, she was the one real friend I had. I didn't want to alienate her. I wanted to protect her. I didn't tell her…

"For the same reason you never told Richard that Jason wasn't his. You wanted to protect the one you loved."

He bows his head. I can see that he's told the truth. I'm angry with him, but I can understand him. He hasn't explained everything (such as Jason's existence, or how in hell he could have "un-told" me), but I know now that he will.

I can even start to comprehend that he is Superman. Even though all the pieces fit, I still need one more thing from him.

I approach him, and place my hands on his wide chest. "Show it to me."

He nods.

"Show me the Suit."


	11. I'm Laughing With You, Not At You

My fingers move slowly across his broad chest, unfastening the buttons on his oxford shirt, one by one. My hands are shaking slightly. I still cannot fully comprehend the situation, and I don't know why it took me so little time to accept his revelation as truth, but I know this is right. This is what I'm _supposed _to be doing.

It seems preordained in some way, like all of our interactions before this moment were simply leading up to now. It feels as though I've somehow always known what he just told me, and I have always been waiting for something to trigger that knowledge. I still haven't made eye contact with the man, which is why I think I'm able to stay calm. My fingers fumble over the last button, but at last my work is done. So I stand back, preparing myself for what I'm about to see.

I see the famous electric blue colour of the suit spread across the chest of a man I've known, trusted (and maybe even loved) for years. I see the 'S' that has meant 'saviour' to so many people in trouble. For the first time, I see that Superman is really nothing more than an outfit and a mannerism.

For the first time, I am looking at the man wearing the suit. I see his vulnerability, and his need to disguise himself, even from me. I see his dry sense of humour; the fumbling, clumsy Clark Kent who is really the strongest man in the world. I see his loving, compassionate heart, and I see his need for someone to see him as a whole. For years, people have praised Superman to no end, and laughed about the latest antics of Clark Kent. It makes me wonder, is there a side of himself that he keeps to himself? A sort of middleman, who sits somewhere between the two extremes of Clark Kent and Superman, and longs for some semblance of normality.

"So. There it is. It's not so impressive when worn with a button-up shirt and blazer." His voice seems different- not as deep as Superman, not as high as Clark Kent, but better than both. I half-smile at his attempt at a joke.

"Lois, I can understand if you don't want me around anymore, but I just need you to know this. I can't lie to you anymore." He blurts out.

"Clark," I begin, trying to find the right words.

"I can leave right now if you want-" he interrupts, making a flying gesture. I notice his blue eyes are very wide behind his glasses.

"Hold it. I'm not as mad as you think. I'm… glad you told me the truth, even if it has taken far too long. Give me a while to adjust, and I think I'll be fine. But I need you to drop the act with me."

I take another look (stare) at the famous suit hidden for all this time beneath a three-piece suit, and I can vaguely hear him talking to me.

"Lois?" he asks, concerned.

"I'm sorry, what? I couldn't hear you over your loud outfit."

He looks puzzled.

"That was a joke."

"Oh." He half laughs. "I was just going to say… well… about. You know. Umm… Jason." He finishes weakly.

"Your son." I raise an eyebrow. Is it possible that I'm having just a little bit of fun making him squirm, despite the seriousness of the situation?

"Yes. My… son." When he says those three words, his face changes completely. His eyes light up, and a very small, proud smile settles on his lips.

He very gently and tentatively rests his hands on my shoulders, and locks eyes with me. He takes a deep breath.

"Lois," He says, "I loved Jason just because he was yours, but now I am mind blown to know that he is mine. I'm still getting used to the idea of having a son, and I don't know where to go from here. But, Lois, wherever I go, I don't want to be away from him."

"You don't have to go anywhere, so there's no need for worry. We'll take this slow. No need for stress."

Clark, for the first time in months, looks truly happy. He starts to say something, but I stop him, and, caught up in the moment, I start to lean in towards him, perhaps hoping for a kiss.

_What the hell, _I tell myself.

Suddenly, his face is alarmed.

_Did I do something wrong?_

In a flash his shirt is buttoned up, and barely a second later the door bursts open to reveal Perry White in all his angered glory.

"What are you two doing up here? You're page one reporters for Pete's sake! Get down there, and have fun, dammit!"

_And the moment is gone._


	12. First Time for Everything

The dictionary definition of ' forgive' is_'to __**stop**__ feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw, or mistake.'_

While this definition is technically true, I think forgiveness is much more than simply ceasing to be angry. Forgiveness is harder than simply excusing someone's behaviour.

Forgiveness is saying '_Hey, you hurt me. I'm not forgetting it, I'm not pardoning it, but I've realized I love you more than I resent what you did. Let bygones be bygones, and let's move on.' _

You don't just "let it slide".

The other night on the roof was when I finally realized what I had to do. I had to forgive Clark.

After the party, we spoke to each other honestly for possibly the first time ever. He told me exactly what happened in those five years he was away, and I told him exactly how I had felt about his absence.

That conversation was the first time that I saw him as truly human. It was the first time that I saw beneath the "super" armour and down to his insecurities and fears. It was the first time I recognized exactly how confused we had become.

So many firsts. He is the father of my first child, and the first man I ever wanted to marry. He was the first person I fell in love with, and my first partner at _The Daily Planet. _

I was his first, too. His first lover, his first partner, his first rescue, and his first meaningful apology.

This is the first step towards sorting ourselves out.

Maybe, one day in the future, we'll look back, and see so many more 'firsts'.

The first time we said 'I love you.' The first time I looked down the aisle, and saw him waiting there for me at the altar. The birth of our first daughter (or maybe a second son?).

Our first home, as a family.

In the future, the last thing we will have fought about is what movie to see. In the future, the last thing I will say to him before going to sleep will be 'I'm happy with you.'

And he will smile at me, and say, 'I know.'

The End.

I just want to say a huge thanks to ShadoLIbrarian for beta-ing every single chapter of this story, and thanks to everyone who reviewed!


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